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A deck of cards sat on the table, surrounded by players. One drew from the top, hand trembling.
A Tarot card â€“ The Tower.
He drew another. Its painted eye moved, blinked.
Another. A glistening rectangle that dripped blood.
Another. The ten of diamonds, half-torn. The one his grandfather slapped him for damaging, decades ago.
Another. A card the texture of his own skin that wailed like a baby.
Another. A mirror, reflecting his future face at the time of death.
He bolted from the table, screaming.
The deck was pushed to the next player. â€œSix to beat. Your turn.'